


Braving The Cold

by Haberdasher



Series: Good Omens Convenience Store AU [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Retail, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Common Cold, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: Crowley fights his way through a cold while still doing his best to man his post at the convenience store; Mister Fell keeps him company and assists him the best he can.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Convenience Store AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1519901
Comments: 13
Kudos: 176
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Braving The Cold

Crowley’s head was pounding, and the bright fluorescent lights of the convenience store weren’t doing him any favors there. His nose was running, his face hurt, he kept sneezing at the most inconvenient moments, and all Crowley wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and go to sleep for a while. Maybe a few days, or a week, even, that ought to do the trick.

Unfortunately for Crowley, he still had almost five hours of his cashiering shift left to go.

The bell on the door rang, and Crowley slunk down a little at his station, trying to suppress a groan. It was a small noise, but one that turned his headache from bad to worse just the same. He didn’t see who was at the door, but he started off his usual greeting just the same, though even he could hear how hoarse and weak his voice was.

“Welcome to-”

And then before Crowley could get any farther, his speech was interrupted by a sneeze. It came fast enough that he didn’t have time to grab a tissue beforehand, instead sneezing into his elbow and getting snot all over it in the process. Lovely. That _definitely_ looked professional right there.

“Oh, good heavens, you’re sick!”

Even before turning his gaze away from his dirtied elbow, Crowley could recognize the speaker by voice (and that characteristic manner of speaking) alone.

“Mister Fell?”

Crowley sniffled a little, which made him feel even more useless and pathetic than he had before, especially when he saw that Mister Fell looked exactly as put-together as he always did, without the slightest stain in sight.

“What are you doing here? You should be home in bed!”

Crowley laughed, though it hurt a little coming out. “I’ve got work to do, don’t I?”

“But you’re clearly in no condition to be working-”

“What’s the alternative, then? Take too much sick leave and I might not make rent, and then I’d be thrown out on the streets, and I’m not-” Crowley sniffled again, longer than before, sounding a bit disgusting in the process. “-letting that happen.”

_Again_, Crowley thought but didn’t dare say out loud.

Mister Fell looked positively stunned by what Crowley had thought was a rather straightforward restating of his living situation.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Crowley echoed.

“Well, that can’t be right-”

“Right or wrong, that’s how it goes when you aren’t-” Crowley sniffled again, trying and largely failing to keep it on the quiet side. “-aren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

Or when you _are_, but you don’t get to stick around and keep it, Crowley thought. Not that his family had been quite silver spoon level of wealth to begin with. Bronze spoon at best, he figured. But from what little Crowley knew of Mister Fell, he had a fairly confident guess that the other man’s spoon hadn’t just been silver, it had been gold, or even bloody platinum.

Wait a minute, would those even make for good spoons in the first place? Wasn’t pure gold too soft for that sort of thing?

...the metaphor _may_ have gotten away from Crowley a wee bit there.

Mister Fell stared at Crowley for a good long minute, and Crowley could practically see the gears turning in his head as he stood there in silence.

Eventually, the gears in Mister Fell’s head must have reached a conclusion, because he spoke up once again. “...won’t you make other people ill if you’re out working in this condition?”

“Possib-”

Crowley let out a loud sneeze in the middle of his response, and took it as a cue to adjust said response a wee bit.

“I mean, probably. But that’s not my problem, now, is it? And they’re not exactly going to pay all my bills for me if I don’t show up to work.”

If his glance in Mister Fell’s direction seemed a bit pointed at that last comment, well, so be it. He seemed like the kind of person for whom Crowley’s monthly rent money would be mere pocket change, spent on luxuries in an instant without giving it any thought whatsoever.

“...do you want my handkerchief?”

Crowly snorted, which made his headache a bit worse, but it was worth it. Of _course_ Mister Fell had a handkerchief on him. It was probably monogrammed and commissioned especially to match his usual outfit too, for good measure.

“No, I’ve got tissues here, I’m-” Another sniffle. “-I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Your nose is awfully red-”

“That tends to happen when you’ve got a cold, yeah.” Crowley hadn’t meant for his response to sound quite as flippant as it did and winced a little internally as it came out, but Mister Fell didn’t seem to mind.

“No, not like that--I mean, there is that, yes, but--don’t you have any tissues with lotion you could be using?”

Another snort. “Those cost twice as much as the regular ones, so no, of course I don’t have any.”

“Well, that’s quite a shame.”

Mister Fell suddenly backed away and started exploring the far reaches of the shop, and Crowley shrugged it off; Mister Fell did have a way of breaking off conversations seemingly at random sometimes, often coming back to the counter with some odd item that must have suddenly sprung into his mind out of nowhere. It almost seemed like that was the case this time, too, as Mister Fell did indeed head back to the counter with an item in hand, but as he approached, Crowley could see that said item was a large box of tissues with lotion.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Yes.” Mister Fell rebutted, calmly but firmly.

“I absolutely will not allow this.”

“You won’t allow me to buy a box of tissues?” Mister Fell looked Crowley right in the eye as he continued, “You won’t allow me, a paying customer of this establishment, to purchase this item here?”

Crowley had seen the look in Mister Fell’s eyes before on other customers, ones who had thought (rightly or wrongly) that they had caught him up on some technicality, that if he didn’t do as they wanted immediately they were going to go cause a fuss with management and make sure to drop his name in the process, that his job might well be on the line and they knew it clear as day.

Of all the regular customers in the convenience store, Mister Fell was probably the one Crowley would have _least_ expected to ever have that particular look in his eyes.

“Hang on, you know that’s not-”

“How much is it?”

Crowley sniffled and sighed and silently applied his employee discount because really, it was literally the least he could do in exchange. “Two quid.”

“Done.” Mister Fell handed over his usual note and added, “Keep the change, too, if it’ll do you any good.”

“We’ve got very strict rules against that, actually. No can do.” Crowley made change and, when Mister Fell didn’t hold his hand out for it, set it down on the counter, so close to the customer’s side of the counter that it was liable to fall off.

Mister Fell scooped up the change, hastily shoving it in his wallet before pushing the box of tissues towards Crowley. “Do you also have very strict rules against accepting gifts from customers?”

“I- now that I think of it, maybe, I can’t-” Crowley sneezed into his elbow. “-can’t recall-”

“Keep the tissues.” Mister Fell headed for the door, a thin smile on his face, as he added, “I hope they help.”

The bell on the door rang as Mister Fell left, before Crowley could think of a proper response.

Crowley looked over the tissue box closely, sniffling all the while, before one more sneeze onto his uniform made him decide to finally open it up. He was pretty sure there was a rule against taking gifts from customers, actually, but hell if he cared right now. Those tissues were _soft_. Too soft. So soft that he wasn’t sure if he trusted them.

...at least until it came time to actually _use_ one, and okay, Mister Fell might have had a point, they really did make a difference.

But a lot of good that was going to do him in the long run, really. One box of tissues with lotion, that would just spoil him-

The bell on the door rang again.

“Wel-” was as far as Crowley managed to get this time before breaking out into a sneeze.

After the sneeze, though, Crowley stopped and blinked a few times. “Mister Fell? What are you doing back here?”

“I’ve got another gift for you.” As Mister Fell approached the counter again, Crowley saw that he was very carefully holding a steaming cup of hot cocoa studded with marshmallows, the cup’s label specifying that it had originated from the overpriced cafe next door.

“You know, I think there actually is a rule against taking-” A quick sniffle that Crowley didn’t let get in the way of his retort. “-gifts from customers-”

Mister Fell set the hot cocoa down on the counter, nudging it towards Crowley. “Just take it. You’re clearly having a bad time of it here, and I want to make it a little bit better. Is that so wrong?”

Crowley looked at the cup of hot cocoa, which looked and smelled absolutely delectable, and just the steam rising off of it was a pleasure right now. “Just don’t go thinking you’ll get any sort of- of special treatment for this-”

“Of course not!” Mister Fell looked positively offended by the suggestion. “I just wanted to be nice, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s all good then.” Crowley sniffled a little before saying, with as much of a smile as he could muster given the circumstances, “And thank you. I- I appreciate it.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

As Mister Fell turned, ready to leave the store for good this time, Crowley could clearly see that he was grinning from ear to ear.

“It was the least I could do, really.”

One sip of that cocoa, and between its sheer deliciousness and the sweetness of Mister Fell’s gesture, a number of Crowley’s worries that had plagued him as of late had now miraculously disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider following me on tumblr at [haberdashing](https://haberdashing.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
